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I start this post with two promises: one, to write more often; two, to never name a post after a Bruno Mars lyric again. I’ve been away since the beginning of the year (!), and though on most days I’m mentally composing a chronicling of them, I’ve been doing so much lately I haven’t had the time to get any of it down. Life has taken a drastic turn this year. 2015 began pretty terribly, and I spent the first few days of it lying on the ground crying so hard my best friend had to come and scoop me up and let me live with her for a few days just to make sure I didn’t die of dehydration. For five months, I feel like the universe was telling me, repeatedly, loudly and very clearly, that I was on the wrong path, but hindsight is always 20/20, and who knows, perhaps it led to the way things unfolded in the end. Maybe you have to go through things that are so wrong for you that when what’s right appears, it shines, and you’re filled with an appreciation for it far deeper than you ever could have felt otherwise. A certain darkness is needed, after all, to see the stars. I do wish I’d known what would transpire just a short month later – I’d go back and tell myself that though things sucked royally at the time, things weren’t only going to get better, but they were going to end up being a fairytale dream version of everything I’d ever wished life could be, and that very soon, I’d be crying with appreciation at just how lucky I got.

Is it luck, though? A good friend of mine posted something on Facebook recently about how your thoughts and attitude shape your life, and I really enjoyed it. I remember being given a copy of The Secret a few years ago and thinking it utter codswallop; thinking that things just happened whether you wanted them to or not, and no amount of wishing things different would actually change anything – but though the book itself might be a bit full of itself, a bit new age, a bit bestselly, a bit lazy ( who needs education, effort, or performance when everything you want is yours simply by wanting it enough?) – the idea of the law of attraction when you put it into actual practice can carry a bit of weight.

“I got on writing spree on the plane today,” my friend posted. “Whatever your thoughts, that is what you attract to you. If you see a fall as the end of your journey, it is. If you see it as a lesson on the way to success it is. We unconsciously attract what we emit. The people and the opportunities presented to us are not by chance. We have opened the door of our life to them with our thoughts and energy. You get what you think you deserve. If you don’t think you are worthy of love and riches and success you will never receive them. You may have to analyze why you think you don’t deserve them. If you think you deserve to suffer, you will. If you think you deserve to be punished, you have just invited punishment into your life. But if you think, deep inside, that the life you have lived and the actions you have taken make you deserving of love and success, it will be so.”

I think he absolutely has a point. It kind of goes back to that book I read a few years ago, and the idea of our egos needing an identity, whether good or bad. We tell ourselves we don’t deserve certain things, that we’re not good enough, and we believe it, not having any idea that we’re actually shaping our lives in the process. We tell ourselves these things, and they are instructions. How terrifying – yet empowering – is that? This year started rough, but I told myself I deserved better. For years I didn’t believe I did. But – and I mentioned this, I think, last time I wrote – somehow, at some point over the last couple of years, I’m finally comfortable. Instead of sitting in my office with the door shut, terrified of anyone seeing or hearing me, believing thoroughly that I wasn’t good enough for anyone to want to be friends with, I now embrace being in front of people. I socialise. I create. I have enormous desires to make things and put things out into the world and tell great stories and live even better ones, and that in itself gives me a sense of accomplishment. A belief that maybe I do deserve good things. And when I started believing that, the best things in the world started to fall into my life. Best friends and a relentless closeness I’d always wished for. Laughter. Being seen. Art projects. Music. Bandmates! A job I like. Better health. More smiles, less tears. More security, less fear. (I really didn’t mean for that to rhyme.) And a love the likes of which I never thought imaginable in the real world, outside of songs and books and movies. Something that’s even better.

I met J. in February. We’d exchanged a brief message last September through myFacebook page, but that was about all. (What’s wrong with me?!) Then, at the beginning of February, I saw a picture pop up on Instagram. It was a “hospital selfie” he’d taken after a horrible operation, and I took one look at that face and had to get in touch. I remembered when I fell off a building and shattered my arm and how rubbish that was, and how much I appreciated people’s help, so I asked if he needed any groceries or anything from a strange girl he’d never met in real life. He laughed and said he was good for food, but could definitely use some company, and asked if I wanted to meet up for a drink. He’d just had surgery, but his demeanour was uplifting. Optimistic. Kind. Funny. That very night shared stories about sci-fi, space, practical jokes, philosophies, hopes, dreams and so many laughs over a couple of martinis, a hug, and headed our separate ways into the coldest of nights. Two days and probably a hundred text messages later, we had ourselves another date, and within 24 hours we found ourselves climbing up tiny snow mountains in the middle of the night exchanging I love yous, positively glowing. I was filled with the strongest, most unquestionable certainty that I wanted nothing more than to keep making this man smile for the rest of my life. His laugh, the way his eyes lit up, and every word said and unspoken were like a direct line to making my heart so full it almost beat right out of my chest, and I’ve felt that way every day since we met.

I met his family the day we started dating. We’d been adventuring at a local flea market, buying antique photo frames and TARDISes, and they happened to be having lunch nearby. I met them and was instantly welcomed, and every sense of having to appear a certain way vanished. I’d never experienced anything like it, and it’s a feeling that’s hard to put into words, but I felt compelled to be exactly myself. I was chatty. A bit eccentric. Offered my house to his brother who was having water problems, and made wise cracks to his parents, who were thoroughly amused and commented on how confident I was, and that they liked it. 🙂 Me, confident! It was as if they all actually saw me as everything I’ve always wanted to be. And it was wonderful.

The following weekend was Valentine’s Day, and we were invited to spend it in exotic Dauphin, Manitoba in the middle of a blizzard for an 80th birthday with his entire extended family. Why not? It was amazing! We had a little love-fest the night before, with car burgers and tiaras and exchanged cards and kisses and gifts (I cried so hard). The next morning, we packed our bags and drove Fiero out to the country. Three and a half hours were filled with so much laughter, good music, ALL the Red Bull, and once we were there, yet again, every person I met I instantly felt at home with. Sometimes in life, you find genuinely wonderful humans. And there’s nothing complicated about them, just sincere, innate goodness. We stayed with J.’s nan for the weekend, got stuck in a ditch, cranked Frank Turner and drove with our headlights illuminating the snowstorm pretending we were in space. We took photos in positively Arctic conditions, exhausted ourselves, exchanged words that should have been scary but felt completely natural, decided that custom air sickness bags were definitely happening, and came home to put face masks on each other and drink Caesars. It was all sorts of wonderful and I loved every second.

[Insert one of the sick bags] Since then, we’ve Star Trekked it up (he owns a uniform too!), danced to Joy Division, laser tagged, seen the actual northern lights (something I’ve wished for my entire life!), explored the galaxy from a pop-up planetarium, floated around beautiful buildings, met all of each other’s family and friends (there’s something so very wonderful about everyone in your partner’s life being wonderful, too), seen an amazing musical, looked at million dollar houses, planned trips, Fringed really hard, and shared more laughs and more love than I ever thought possible. Could it be that now I’m finally becoming who I was always meant to be, the universe has dropped the person I was meant to be that person with in my life? Everything in our lives aligns. Life is weightless. Beautiful. And he has this gift I see given effortlessly to everyone he encounters: the gift of allowing others to see their true potential. Seeing what they’re capable of and allowing them to see it for themselves. It’s a sort of magic.

I’ve been working on my image editing for a while now; each post does seem to have a photograph or two from a shoot I’ve worked on. But I’ve never considered myself a photographer in the slightest. I love making things whimsical in Photoshop, but I’ve never been able to operate a camera like the pros. Shutter speed, ISO, aperture – these were always maths-heavy things that seemed far beyond my comprehension. I liked taking photos to edit, but I never thought it would turn into anything beyond a hobby. J. saw what I was doing and after our Legislative building shoot, we talked about it being something unique that could potentially turn into a business venture. How many people specialise in making others fly? I thought about it, thought about how much I love it, talked logistics, and after a thoroughly encouraging and inspiring chat, decided what have I got to lose? He helped me get into photography school, where I’ve been every Monday night for the past month, and I started working on a website and business cards. I talked with my accountant friend about all the things I don’t know how to do, and applied to register with the province as a business like a Real Grown Up. For the past few weeks, I’ve been learning, shooting, making inquiries in the industry and getting out there – and it’s been incredible. I have a passion for making things magical, and I think it might have a bit of promise. I read somewhere recently that “you have everything you need to build something far bigger than yourself.” The words spoke to me loudly. I want to capture the feeling of magic and whimsy, target couples and friends and families and transport them into worlds that are full of magic. Make them soar physically the way my heart is internally right now. My site has been behind closed doors for the past couple of weeks as I get everything together, but I think I’m just about ready to launch Stardust Photography. Like a rocket ship. I’m in a bit of disbelief that this, too, is actually happening.

Thanks to my friend Vivienne who let me shoot her in her pretty dress over the train tracks.

Music is still happening, too, and last month White Foxesgot a new member in the form of our very talented friend John. I haven’t known John very long, but we’ve become fast friends, and he just so happens to be able to build moving, Hogwarts-eque staircases, real life video game characters and boots, and has the really annoying and stupidly impressive super power of hearing a song once and being able to play it on every instrument AND sing it an hour later. He’s primarily playing piano with us, but also guitar, bass, voice, and probably drums at some point, and it’s changed our sound brilliantly. I’m so thrilled to have three incredible musicians making music with me, and I can’t contain how excited I am that they lend their insane talent to songs I wrote sitting by myself and transform them into full, real things. I wrote a song for J. I think the week we first met, and we tried it for the first time as a group last night. It’s already transformed from this (my first attempt alone after writing it) to this (yesterday), and I can’t believe it’s sounding so real already. I can’t wait to get this one thoroughly rehearsed and laid down! I really hope we can record an EP this year.

Things right now are going alarmingly well. I’ve always been quietly determined, but I no longer need to stay in the shadows. My heart feels strong, and has finally been recognised by another that speaks its language. That’s forged from the same stardust. And that’s given me permission to fly. I want to go back to that girl who sat in front of a psychiatrist two years ago after years of trying to figure out why, despite making big lists and doing things she was terrified of, she still had crippling anxiety. I want to show her a glimpse of what was to come. I want to go back another year and tell her she didn’t have to be so scared. I want to go back five or ten, and tell her that every hope and dream she had could actually become reality and that as soon as she decided to step out of the darkness and take action, things would only be scary for a moment and then life would start to take shape. I want to take the hand of everyone who’s ever been afraid and squeeze them tight and help them get aboard their ships and leave the harbour. Sail through the storms and through to the most epic horizon they’ve ever seen.

I’ve also stopped taking the medication I’ve been on for more years than I can count. I’ve relied on prescription medications to keep my brain from living in a state of constant worry as well as to keep it asleep through the night for a long time, but for the past few weeks, I haven’t needed it. I’ve simply forgotten, come bedtime, and I’ve slept like a normal person, and each day I feel strong, positive, capable and happy. Everything is finally working out. I’m incredibly grateful for life right now. For everything and everyone in it. I’m not sure what conspired to make life take such a turn, but I’ve never felt better, and for that, I am in the truest depths of appreciation. I hope that for today at the very least, all is wonderful in your world.

New year! It’s funny I write this in such good spirits, because most of 2015 so far has felt pretty terrible. However, when life gives you things beyond your control, as long as you’re consciously doing all you can to make the best of the situation, I find the notion of acceptance a comforting one. (I conveniently had this realisation on my Google calendar scheduled “Epiphany” day. Anyone else have a good one?) Also, gratitude for all the things that don’t suck. They’re always there, if temporarily eclipsed.

I didn’t make myself any resolutions for 2015. I think New Year’s resolutions are kind of stupid (if you want to change something, do it on any day of the year), but I had the idea of making resolutions for everyone I know and love. At first that might sound horrid, but I think instead of everyone making lists of things that will likely evaporate two weeks into a new year, maybe we could all do these few things throughout the year. I kept seeing on my Facebook news feed how dreadful 2014 was to many people. So let’s make the next one awesome. 1) Stop wishing, and start doing. We only have one life. 2) Get out of your comfort zone. It’s scary, but I’ll hold your hand. It’s made me physically ill, but also led me to some of my greatest loves in life. 3) Think of at least one thing every night before bed you’re thankful for. Better, write it down. Wake up happy. 4) Stop and admire the stars. 5) Every time you judge or criticize yourself, ask yourself if it’s warranted. If so, do something about it. If it’s just a nasty inner monologue, ask yourself what your dearest friend would say about you. How they would see you. Because if you’re reading this, chances are at least one person (ahem) thinks you’re wonderful. 6) Cut things out of your life that aren’t contributing to where – or who – you want to be. It’s hard to give up on what can feel like obligations, but we all have hopes and dreams, goals, great people and self-nurturing to fit into our lives. Don’t run yourself ragged. You don’t have to say yes to everything.

Seriously, bundle up and lie on a table in the middle of nowhere and look up at the stars once in a while. It’s magic.

Those were my thoughts going into 2015. Some crap happened, but some incredibly great things have happened too, and we’re not even three weeks in. I attempted to conquer my fear of sudden loud noises. I spent time and many hours with my best friends on the planet, who picked me up when I was physically lying on the floor unable to stop crying, brought me chicken nuggets and let me sleep with every pillow and blanket in the world, talked me through everything with such openness and transparency, love and honesty, even if it hurt, that I felt they were legitimately part of my own mind for a while. I never imagined I would find friendships so close, and for the two of them, words cannot describe my gratitude.

I wrote a new song. I spent a couple of days snowed in with my dear friend and she let me spend a day with my beautiful new baritone ukulele (for which I have to learn all the chords again from scratch! Whole new instrument, but it’s what I’ve always wanted to play! Thank you to The Professor for the wonderful Christmas present! I named him Cogsworth.), writing quite possibly the most heartfelt thing I’ve ever written. The feelings I had were so intense, I had to put them to music. And I wanted it to physically move people – sound very upbeat, as well as hopefully move them emotionally. I like songs whose feel sounds completely different from the actual lyrics. Here’s a very rough draft – recorded literally a few hours after I finished writing it – but with White Foxes we’re going to add in harmony, I hear some sort of kick drum, more guitar, and hopefully it’ll end up as a piece of ass-kicking folk a la Mumford and Sons. I’ve been really excited about making music lately. Just thinking that my whole life I’d wanted to sing or write even just one song, and in the last year I’ve written enough to record a whole EP. And I get to make music with two incredible people. I’m so very lucky.

I also tried the new instrument out on a song I figured everybody would know, along with another piece of new equipment – a Zoom H1 I bought to record band stuff. My phone REALLY wasn’t cutting it in terms of audio quality. So here’s Lady Gaga’s “Applause” I tried about ten minutes before my friend Nicole arrived for a movie night. (Yep, that’s my music stand falling down halfway through and me winging the end.) Excited to actually pair the mic with my DSLR once I figure out how to keep it recording video for more than 8 seconds at a time!

I also got to be part of some amazing photography projects recently, both as a subject and photographer/editor. I always feel strange referring to myself as a photographer, because I don’t consider myself one – all my work is done in post; but I’ve been watching courses with the incredible Brooke Shaden recently, and she’s known in the fine art world as a brilliant photographer, yet she freely and regularly admits not really knowing how to use a camera. I organised my first big photo shoot as a “photographer” at the end of December – an entire series of weird and creepy old timey freak show shots I convinced people to pose for and let me edit. My dear friend Kevin owns a studio in the Exchange District and incredibly kindly allowed me to not only use it, but also his lighting equipment for the day. I had over a dozen models, a fabulous hairstylist and two amazing makeup artists all show up to donate their time and skills to help make my project come to life. I’m not quite finished all the images yet, but here are a few I’ve finished so far. (Of course I had to be one of the characters too – I’d written this character in my book, and it was the perfect opportunity to bring her to life!) I think you can click on each image to see it larger. I haven’t used galleries before. And yes, that’s a cut-up doll attached to a woman’s stomach as the baby that never came out.

I also got to be in front of the camera a few times – and my talented friends transformed me into a robot, an entire galaxy, and an evil disease infecting another poor soul.

I also really, really want to get back to working on my novel soon – it’s been too long, and I realised I’m turning thirty in a few months, and I began this project two years ago. I need to get back at it before another two go by. (But there’s so much to create!!)

Another fun thing that happened was that this very blog got featured on a local channel! It’s on television sets every day for the next few weeks, and I’ve already had people stop me and comment about it, which is very strange. My lovely coworker happened to be volunteering at the station and they were doing a series on bloggers, and though it was about two weeks after we’d met last summer, we’d become fast friends, and I ended up doing an interview.

I realise I’m at about 1,200 words right now. You should know I gave up on the “rules” of blogging a long time ago, and for making it this far, thank you! I also had a bit of a realisation recently, and it honestly threw me. If you’ve been with me for a while, you’ll know how very interested in psychology I am. I love to study personality, the human mind, how we all weave our lives into each others, and how we’re all wired on the inside. People fascinate me, and the study of psychology is something that’s taught me a lot, as well as continuing to bring a sense of personal understanding and reflection. It’s also made me feel that after so many years, it’s okay to be exactly who I am. And as strange as I feel sometimes, I am not alone. The MBTI has been getting a bit of a bad rap lately, and I’ve never been one to call is science, but I have appreciated and learned a lot from it. It’s a psychometric typology assessment I’ve taken routinely for the better part of the past decade, at least, and I’ve eternally scored the same result: INFJ. This is considered, at less than 1% of the population, the rarest of all personality types, and I related to it so much that I got it tattooed as part of my text sleeve a few months ago. Over the past few years, my introversion has gone steadily down, which I’ve felt good about – the closer I got to zero, the more progress I felt I’d made in conquering my anxiety, but I always remained an INFJ, also known as “The Counsellor”.

For two reasons recently, I decided to take the test again. One: I found myself filling out a new type of personality assessment, and noticed I was answering questions in a way I hadn’t before. I had more confidence and answered in a more extraverted way than I have for most of my life. I found this interesting. Two: I was given the biggest compliment in the world. In preparation for the galaxy photo shoot, I was telling the team that I’d like to incorporate something my friend Kier had always told me – that even at my quietest and most afraid, I had “a universe inside.” This meant so incredibly much that somebody saw what I was. My friend Melinda, whom I only met last year and who’s done some of the most incredible makeup I’ve ever seen, told me she “never would have guessed I used to be painfully shy.” Same with a coworker who’s only known me a few months. “Can’t imagine you not being this confident person”. Shy was THE word people described me as since I moved to this country, and I hated it so much. I hated what people saw on the outside just because I was so scared of everyone and everything. I was so scared of being judged that I never let what was inside come out. I feel like in the last few years I’ve tried to put myself in situations that force me to do what I’ve always wished I could. And to have people see that as ME… that in itself was enough to throw me.

I’ve been worried lately I’ve been growing less sentimental, but that’s not it. I’m still the most emotional and sensitive person you probably know, and I’d still do absolutely anything for those I love. I tell them how much they mean regularly and I make a point of trying to put good out into the world whenever I can. I think maybe I’ve just learned to recognize things and see them clearly, and not through rose-coloured glasses. I’ve also learned that I’m more than okay on my own, because I’m incredibly lucky to have the best friends in the world. And I think that’s given me a bit of strength. Anyway, back to the MBTI. I held onto being an INFJ so hard because my whole life, it was me. 100%. But I retook the test. I expected maybe my introversion would have gone down a bit more, but I didn’t expect it to flip onto the side of extraversion. A tiny percent (basically a cat’s whisker over the border between the two), but also? My J changed to a P. Apparently I’ve become more okay with spontaneity rather than careful planning. Things have become more flexible. My entire personality has apparently shifted from the sensitive INFJ to the outgoing ENFP. Reading over this description… I don’t disagree. That’s the alarming part. Have I become a whole new person? I’d always wanted to become someone with strength and courage, someone unafraid to be authentically themselves in any situation, someone who wasn’t scared to try making an impact or putting my stuff out into the world… hopefully someone who could inspire others in some way. I just scored ENFP. The Inspirer. And I don’t know what to think. I know basing your identity on pseudo-science isn’t the wisest thing in the world, but because I’d related to it so very much; because it had made me feel so unalone – a shift threw me. Even if the results and people’s recent comments paint me as… the person I’ve always wished I could be.

I used to be afraid of taking the bus. Eating in public. I threw up if I had to be in front of anybody. It’s a little alarming to see what you only ever dreamed of actually becoming… real. But as taken aback as I am, I’m happy. I’m on the right path. I don’t know where it’s going, but isn’t that half the fun?

And that time is now. I have so much to say that it’s like something was set alight in my chest and my body is a moment frozen in time; the explosion was ignited but is held in stasis inside, ready to go off. I think it has to explode here. I want to write her a song. I want to write about songs. I want to write about incredible performances I’ve seen that made me proud to be a member of the human race. I want to write about my confusion and determination, to try and figure out a plan for the way forward. I want to write about so much happiness. So much sadness. The paradox of being. Thank goodness for words.

Do you ever lie awake at night with so many thoughts and ideas rattling around your brain you can’t possibly sleep? I know each of us is afforded the same amount of time per day, but I feel eternally that it’s not enough. I wish it were a real commodity; I’d buy so much from other people. Nights they spend in front of the television that will disappear into the past completely wasted. I’d scoop them all up and make so many things. Songs. Stories. Photographs. Memories. I sometimes wish I weren’t so invested in so many things.

But I can’t do things by halves. I pour every ounce of everything I am into everything I do, and it frustrates me and sometimes breaks my heart. When it’s not reciprocal, it hurts, and instead of seeing it as the simple fact that other people don’t always feel so extremely (and that’s okay), I feel saddened and alone and confused. My heart will always take my head in any fight, and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do to change that. I’m a little all over the place right now, so this post probably will be, too. Thank you for bearing with me.

I feel like I’ve been doing a pretty good job at doing what I’m supposed to be doing lately. Storytelling, in some way or another. I’ve made some images, posted a song I wrote, and entered a writing competition with something I made over a few lunch hours, ending up with about 3,500 words. I love being able to tell stories in more than one way, but I sometimes question if I should.

Should I focus on one avenue at the cost of the others? If I want to be a real writer, I should spend all my storytelling time telling stories through the written word. If I want to be a half-decent musician, I should spend my time writing more songs, learning how to perform, and getting things recorded. If I want to be a photographer, I should spend more time taking and editing images. But I’m so very drawn to all three. Writing most. But sometimes an idea has to come out as music or art instead, and I don’t want to limit myself. But I don’t want to spread myself thin, either.

Music is something I’ve been passionate about for probably close to the same amount of time as I’ve been on the planet. As a kid, I remember anxiously sitting by the radio, waiting for a song to come on to record onto a mix tape. I’ll still spend a few hundred dollars I don’t have travelling to other cities to see a favourite band. I curated mix CDs for friends for years (damn modern technology; how do you do that now?) and grew up listening to my dad’s punk and new wave, and to this day we basically have the same taste. We went to a Gary Numan show this week – something I was looking forward to (Godfather!) but had no idea how incredible it would be! This man blew me away. Everyone knows Cars, but holy crap. I loved everything he played, and his performance was mesmerising. It was as if the music had been injected into his every vein, fuelling his movement and delivery; the result an electric art piece (that rocked SO hard) that words fail to describe. Everyone in the audience was awe-struck. There was an excitement and wonder that filled the air as we watched him command the stage with body contortions and vast, stylized gestures that made it appear like he was channelling so much more than music. No wonder so many artists cite him as their biggest influence.

I’ve always adored music, but I never dreamed I’d ever be able to make it. I took classes in school, but always struggled with being able to read sheet music. I was in stage school for a brief period and loved it, but I lost a lot of confidence in my early-mid twenties and though I loved to sing, I’d ensure every window was closed and nobody was home before I ever dared sing along to something. My biggest reason for getting a car wasn’t for transportation; it was so I’d have a space where nobody would see me that I could sing in as much as I liked.

I wrote my first song at about this time last year, and I surprised myself. You know me; I like to write thousands of words at a time. A song is about 200. Yet it somehow worked. My little story fit into a couple of verses and a chorus. So I kept going. Now I’m in the habit of writing down stray sentences and turns of phrase in an ongoing Google document, and recording random bits of melody on my phone if inspiration strikes. But why am I doing it? I’m still terrified of performing, but I have this immense desire to create music. I want to keep writing songs, learning more chords, and strengthening my voice until it becomes one I’m actually proud of. Not because I need to entertain people; far from it. I think it’s because, like my old friend once told me, we don’t have these insatiable longings for no reason at all. We have them because we should be doing something about them. And I think my reason is to prove to myself that maybe I can be good. I’ve spent years trying to let what’s on the inside emerge externally; to become the person I’ve always wanted to be. Recognising the discrepancy between where I was and where I wanted to be and actually doing something about it. But I don’t think I’ll ever be done.

That reminds me. I finally got some work done on my tattoo! This thing has cursed my back for years, and the last time I tried to cover it up it ended with me leaving the shop in tears, insulted, and in ridiculous amounts of pain (chronic abnormality; my back is always in spasm and hurting, and having needles in it doesn’t tend to go well. I can sit through being inked anywhere else on my body!). I finally went back in to see Ivy, who’s been creating this wonderful piece on my arm, and she understood my situation. It was going to be a cover up of a messy, quarter-finished cover up attempt on a back that hurts just to touch: not fun, but it was time. She designed something perfect, and I’ve got the hardest piece done, even if it was quite possibly one of the most painful things of my entire life. A ship, to represent the sentiment of always sailing forward, even if you don’t know which direction you’re going. I refuse to ever settle and stay still when there is so much life to be lived. An albatross, too, because they are beautiful and strong and can last for days and days on nothing at all. And a Frank Turner lyric, “I face the horizon, the horizon is my home,” supporting the ship itself in the same typeface and style as everything on my arm. The sentiment is perfect, and it just encompasses (no pun intended) the way I absolutely have to live my life.

Anyway. Back to what I was saying. I want to make music. I also want to make art and edit images and create whimsical fairytales told by a single photograph. I’m almost at 1,000 on my photography/art type stuff Facebook page, and I could edit for hours and hours. I love compositing, creating magical stories, and I have so very much to learn still. And I want to learn it all. I want to be as good as Brooke Shaden. I have a shoot I’ve organised for December with close to thirty people taking part, and I’m so excited for the day, but I’m beyond excited for the editing process and the resultant album. But again, these things take time.

I also have to finish my novel. Now winter is here I’ll be spending far more time indoors and not running around barefoot in forests, and it’s been a goal to have the whole thing finished before I turn thirty. That’s only seven months away. But if people can Wri Nos in a Mo, I think I can do it. The Professor and I I’m sure will start our writing nights again, just like before. 🙂

There are a few things up in the air right now, but writing this stream of consciousness has helped settle me. This evening I will build a blanket fort and make epic grilled cheese sandwiches and light sparklers for Bonfire Night with one of my favourite people in the world. The rest will sort itself out. It always does. And life is full of a lot of wonderful.

Lately, I’ve been feeling a little bit guilty. When I first started writing here, I did it for a number of reasons: to get my thoughts out into the world because back then, I was a timid thing with a head full of thoughts and a heart too scared to speak up in the world; to chronicle life and bind it into real books at the end of each year; to connect; to document a journey through things I was afraid of and be held accountable to all those goals; to hopefully somehow be some kind of small inspiration, maybe; but most importantly, to make this a place where anyone could come and fall into my mind and know they’re getting the genuine thing.

One of the things I remember being bothered by when I first ventured into the blogosphere was how there was such a difference between real human beings and the personas they portrayed online. I found myself frustrated, searching for authenticity in a sea of best impressions, and I made a vow to myself: put it all out there. All of it. Don’t be a victim or a downer, but don’t be afraid to hide real feelings. Get really excited about stupid stuff and put that out there too. Be an outpouring of enthusiasm for everything I feel deeply about. Think out loud, as a stream of consciousness, and have this space be as close a representation to the inside of my mind as possible. (Though if that were true, the walls would be decked with quotes and beautiful imagery, and there’d be all sorts of music playing in a wandering stream of energy and enchantment.) Be genuine, because by being anything else, no subsequent relationships ever could be.

People question me sometimes, and tell me there’s such a thing as being “too open”. But take one look at me and you’ll see I can’t hide a thing. My heart is literally tattooed all over my sleeve, and a recent costuming endeavour (Observer from Fringe; yep, bald head and everything) proved I was thoroughly incapable of hiding any emotions (I’d be a terrible Vulcan!). I’m wired with a desperate desire to know and to be known. Right now, I feel as if I’ve been doing a lot of reflection on how best to balance that, but I don’t know if I’ve been doing the best job. I’ve been trying to follow my friend’s advice (it’s very good), yet somehow I keep packing my calendar fuller than a Christmas turkey.

I think, as with so many things, it goes back to the whole INFJ thing—one of the things I find most interesting with MBTI is the differences within types—I know a few other INFJs who fit the type just as well as I do, but are happy to only go out once or twice a week (higher I), or are able to remain a little more steady when it comes to being affected by emotions (lower F), for example. I’ve always remained an INFJ, but as I’ve grown older, my introversion has been steadily decreasing. I think this leads to the desire to be in the company of others, which when extremely awesome or extremely meaningful (or both), leaves me feeling energized—yet if it’s obligatory, I feel bad afterward, because it’s time that could have been spent making something. And I always need to create. I always have. Especially since I’ve been alone; I dived into photography and modelling and writing music and doing covers to keep myself occupied so, in all honesty, I didn’t just sit there being sad. But in doing so I fell ever so much more in love with it.

It was a good thing: my loneliness was the catalyst for an explosion of creativity and a deepening of incredible friendships. I love doing all these things, all of the time. But tonight was the first time I actually scheduled myself some alone time. I’ve been feeling guilty of going out and seeing people too much at the expense of things I need to accomplish. Yes, I’m always doing photos, whether shooting or editing or being in other people’s… and I love telling stories through imagery. Yes, I’ll come home from work and between getting in and heading out again, I’ll pick up my ukulele and I’ll sing. I’ll try whatever happens to be floating around my head, or I’ll play some chords and hum a tune and record it for future use if something comes out sounding kind of okay. I’ve missed being part of a joint musical force so very much, and this past week, my stars aligned and two friends of mine, two incredibly talented friends who are already in their own amazing band, said yes to teaming up as a three-piece with me. (Me!) We had our first jam, and I was nervous and awe-struck, but I feel like this is could be the start of something that might just be really great. And I’m beyond excited. But one thing I haven’t been doing much of is working on my book. Maybe it’s because that’s the one thing that must be done alone. “Visual storytelling” is a collaborative effort; it’s fun, and from beginning to end, there’s something very social about it, even the solo work itself. Music too: you either collaborate with others, or you post something on the Internet and talk to others about it. But writing necessitates solitude. And that’s the one thing I’ve always been afraid of.

(Most recently written song, before I found this awesome team)

I’m much better at solitude than I used to be. But I have such trouble turning off my thoughts and focusing them on writing the story at hand. My mind will be full of tales and ideas and will conjure up strings of words all day long, but at the end of the day, when I finally have time to put them to paper, they get all tangled up with thoughts and feelings, wishes, reflections, curiosities and nostalgia. And it’s so terribly hard to concentrate. I feel off balance—like I should be either an extrovert who’s just always around people all the time, and feels good about it, or an introvert who can stay home most of the week, perfectly content to embrace isolation (even my word choice there has a negative connotation) and have ample time to devote so much more time to creative projects… I just feel a little torn between the two, and though I’m doing a lot (and loving it), and though I’m learning to only say yes when it’s a “hell yes”… I’m still not finishing my damn book. And that’s the one thing I absolutely need to.

Especially because I hired this amazing artist off the Internet to design the cover, who ended up being awesome at life, too, and who I’m totally going to visit this summer

Does anyone else have this problem? Too many ideas for too many things, not enough hours in the day, being torn between craving company and needing alone time, and the complete inability to shut off all the thoughts and simply focus on one thing? I wish I didn’t have to sleep. I feel that maybe then, I’d have sufficient time to devote to everything I want to instead of squishing it all in and feeling spread thin. I want to do everything. But I also want to be able to focus on one thing at a time without my thoughts wandering off with my feelings. The concept of meditating, or even just lasting more than five minutes in a bath, is one I’ve never been able to fathom. (There’s always so much to be doing!) How do you do it?

Fellow INFJs… I feel like you may have a few words of wisdom. Or at least help me feel a little less strange.

I had an e-mail a couple of weeks ago that left me a little exhilarated and simultaneously thrown for a loop. I’ve never been much for public speaking, so the fact that someone from TED (as in Talks) was nominating me to be a speaker at the upcoming TEDx Manitoba was kind of insane.

I responded, naturally, in complete freak-out fashion, thanking them as graciously as I could while also making sure they knew all about my throwing up incidents after being on stage and the performance anxiety that though I am challenging, musically, is still very much there. I wasn’t sure they’d got the right person—if they’d found me through my blog, surely they’d know I’d be a nervous wreck in front of an audience of hundreds? They assured me they’d be with me every step of the way. That people needn’t have any prior speaking experience, that they too had had someone throw up with nerves in their preparation… yet every single person they’d ever chosen ended up being brilliant. They told me they believed in my story; that I had the power to engage through writing and tell stories that inspire people. I was flattered and humbled beyond belief: all I do is live my life out loud. I have a desperate desire to know and to be known, to seize every moment we’re given, to do something positive in the world and be a friend to every stranger who’s ever feeling they can’t do something or that life is too much, because I spent too long feeling that way myself and I want everyone to know that the key to the life they want truly does lie in their own back pocket. Every dragon to slay on the way to reaching it is masked as real, but evaporates the moment you choose to venture forth into the world, face fears head on, and allow yourself the freedom to try what you’ve always wanted. Accept that judgment is inescapable, but that if you have a passion or ten or two hundred, you should be allowed to go forth and explore them. I’ve said it before, that ships are safe in harbour, but that’s not what ships are for. I was incredibly touched that someone from such a huge organization hand-picked me and believed in me, despite my fears. And I was torn. But not because I was afraid.

Everyone I told was incredibly excited about the opportunity, telling me I absolutely had to do it. That this sort of thing doesn’t just come around, and that I’d always regret it if I didn’t do it. My initial reasons for hesitance were rooted in a bit of anxiety—it hasn’t stopped me, but every time I get up in front of people it’s immensely difficult to switch off my biggest fear: that people will see only what’s on the surface. That they wouldn’t see a girl whose head is full of ideas and imagination, a heart so determined it never stops learning and doing, a mind that never stops thinking and imagining and challenging itself. Someone who’s been at the absolute bottom and knows it well enough for it to become the catalyst to doing everything so as never to go there again. I’m not proud of those years. But I’m proud of these ones. And in the way I wish someone had reached out and scooped me up back then, I want to be that beacon any chance I get. To help people. To pour passion into everything, to soak up the infinite wonders of the world and be inspired to create some of my own. To encourage people to see the vast potential on their very own doorstep. To show them all they have to do is leap, and that it’ll be scary, but it’ll be brilliant. And no matter what, it’ll be okay. Because if we have a desire within us to do certain things, we should leap on that and make it happen. Don’t let something that could shine so brightly fade into regret. (I might not be the best singer or even a good ukulele player yet, but I’m working on it, and the journey is bringing me so much happiness—this is a Bastille cover, and it’s the only one since the accident I’ve actually been kind of proud of)

I debated doing TED internally for a few days, and then I briefly convinced myself I was going to say yes. It’d probably be the biggest challenge of my life, but it’d also probably be one of the most rewarding if I made it through. And I would make it through. I don’t know if I’d do it gracefully, but I’d get through it. But the idea of doing it didn’t sit right. Not because I was scared—I’ve spent the last few years diving into things I’ve been afraid of for the sake of growth and adventure—but because of the idea of time. And wondering if it truly would be that rewarding after all. Would it be, just because it was hard? There’d be no guarantee I’d have any kind of impact on anybody, and if I want to inspire people, I can do that from here. With words, and without standing in the spotlight feeling uncomfortable. When I’m passionate about something (which, let’s be honest, is a lot of things), I have no problem launching it out into the world. Even if it’s not perfect. I did an image this week and covered a song last week and for the first time in a while, felt kind of proud. Not because I’d somehow reached a level I dream of being at, but because I’ve been trying. That leads me back to another reason I felt uncomfortable saying yes: TEDx would be in June, and I’d have to come up with a speech, learn it inside and out, and somehow be okay being on one of the city’s bigger stages in front of hundreds of people. This wasn’t something that excited me. This was two months of fear and dread. Two months I could spend sharing the same message in a different way—a way I felt comfortable with and relatively decent at, that could reach the same number of people.

My most recent photomanipulation. I was only a couple of feet off the ground here, so in much less danger than normal 🙂

I had lunch with a dear friend (whom many of you will know from elsewhere on the Interwebs) recently, and she was, as was everyone else, very excited for me. We hadn’t got together in a while, but she’d posted something at the very same time I last wrote about being overwhelmed by All Of The Things, and her antidote was a very well-timed one that constituted the need to get together and discuss! She, like most people, was excited for me—but then we had an illuminating talk over afternoon breakfast and she left me with a phrase that’s embedded itself in my head and may be the very solution to feeling overwhelmed. I’d thought I was feeling overwhelmed because of all the projects I wanted to do, but it wasn’t that at all.

If it’s not a ‘hell yes’, then it’s a no.

Her simple phrase put everything into perspective and made me refocus on exactly what I’ve been advocating forever—we’re only given so much time in a day, a week, a life… why spend it on things that don’t contribute to the life you want to be living? I want to create. I want to inspire. I want to always be learning and expressing and exploring and adventuring and challenging and growing. I want to spend my time with people of the same kind of mindset. People who get that the world is so full of infinite possibility and so is everyone in it. I want to let every piece of imagination inside this head out into the world in some form or another. Because it’s not there for nothing. I’ve debated before whether to spend that time trying to prove you can do anything and everything, or enhancing what you’re innately good at and possibly becoming extraordinary at one or two things. I’ve always felt drawn to the former, I suppose because I felt like I had something to prove. But in recent years, I’ve discovered passions. Making art and storytelling through words, images, or song. Seeing incredible sights and spending time with a small handful of people I feel lucky even exist. And I’m completely sold now on the latter. I don’t have to do everything. I just have to do the things that are a “hell yes”.

I’ve never wanted to be a public speaker, but if I have a message to get out there, or an idea (and I have lots!), I have countless other ways through which to do it. Ways that make me happy and, you know, not throw up. I want to know and be known, absolutely. But I don’t have to do it in a way that makes me uncomfortable.

It was an incredible honour to have been nominated for something so huge, but I’m not going to regret not doing it. I know if I took it on, I’d feel overwhelmed, because my time would be invested in something that I ultimately don’t really want to do—and more importantly taken away from the things I do. Like writing, and making cool images, and getting better at music. I decided mid-conversation that I wasn’t going to do it, and you know what? I don’t think I’m actually going to regret it at all. Someone believed I could do it. Someone believed I had something worth sharing. And that’s an incredible honour. I’m just going to do it in a way I feel is the best use of this gift of time—and of what I’m naturally better at. I thought I’d let people (and myself) down if I didn’t do this, but in choosing not to, for these reasons, all I feel is grateful. Humbled. Relieved. And excited.

And just maybe, through following your own path, you create your own massive opportunities along the way.

My favourite time of year just wrapped up again, and this year I was lucky enough to share it with someone who’d never Fringed before. AC and I saw 12 shows in total (sadly this year I had no vacation time to take the full week off, or it would have been at least double), 90% of which were as brilliant as expected. One of my oldest friends got to stay with me, and though our time was short, it was wonderful, and we even got to help out in making part of People Pleaser (if you happen to be lucky enough to be reading this in Edinburgh, please catch his show!).

We saw actors perform a sold-out show and move the audience to tears with no words; nothing but hand-crafted masks and brilliantly imagined physicality. We laughed ourselves silly at so many witty comedies, parodies, and storytelling, and spent one night in absolute awe of one show in particular, which left me absolutely breathless. Seriously. There are some moments of human brilliance, whether in writing, performance or music, where the creator actually has the power to suspend time and transport you into their world, immerse you in its creativity so deeply that when it’s over, you almost feel the physical need to come up for air. I can’t explain it, but that kind of mesmerizing power, that kind of imagination, that kind of skill… it just leaves me breathless. After that show, I left inspired on so many levels, and reinvigorated with ideas for getting back to writing. And the universe, as if in unison with the burst of awe I felt inside, set the sky alight as it crashed down on us in the most epic of storms, and we ran, we kissed, we laughed, we stood atop a bridge marvelling at the lightning and the force of nature that seemed to be an echo of everything we felt inside.

I know I try every year, but words fail me when I try to express just how much I love this time of year. I’ve been to Fringe festivals in other cities, and though Edinburgh and Adelaide remain for now a dream, there’s nothing quite like Winnipeg’s. The whole city unites in one part of town that’s usually deserted, and restaurants, pubs, concert halls, parks, churches, and of course the usual theatres become the home of the products of people’s imagination, and the dedicated audiences that fall in love with them. There’s magic in the theatrical. Anyone can become transported into a world of someone else’s creation; for a moment in time nothing exists but the universe of another’s conjuring. It can evoke laughter, tears, and all manners of emotion, and its residual effect can be carried like a torch in the form of inspiration long after its burst of glory. And to live in a city where there’s a community of fellow enthusiasts, others who adore these twelve days of a hundred plus creations… is incredible. Passion shared is passion multiplied, and this year, I got to share it with my favourite person in the world.

It came and went all too quickly, this explosion of universes that originated in the human mind and for a moment, became real. But they were real. The residual inspiration with which I’m filled is real, and I’m beyond excited for it to fuel the next chapter of creating worlds of my own. In my head, in writing, and in song.

“Everybody has a secret world inside of them. I mean everybody. All of the people in the whole world, I mean everybody — no matter how dull and boring they are on the outside. Inside them they’ve all got unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful, stupid, amazing worlds… Not just one world. Hundreds of them. Thousands, maybe.”
— Neil Gaiman

“…because nerds like us are allowed to be unironically enthusiastic about stuff. Nerds are allowed to love stuff, like jump-up-and-down-in-‎the-chair-can’t-control-yourself love it. When people call people nerds, mostly what they’re saying is ‘you like stuff.’ Which is just not a good insult at all. Like, ‘you are too enthusiastic about the miracle of human consciousness’.” – John Green

Last year’s Cannes Lions award winners were nothing short of brilliant, and 2012 didn’t disappoint. Here are my favourite examples of human brilliance from this year’s International Festival of Creativity:

This hilarious ad for New Zealand, the “most creative country in the world”, made me want to move there:

Dads in Briefs: A campaign for why you should buy an air conditioner

Gandhi Bookstores: A fun invitation to keep reading

Courageousness calls for a Carlsberg:

DirecTV: SO many LOLs, especially the last one. Don’t wake up in a roadside ditch. Stop taking in stray animals. Don’t have a grandson with a dog collar. Don’t have your house explode. And don’t re-enact scenes from Platoon with Charlie Sheen. Get rid of cable – get DirecTV:

Coca Cola Security Cams – had seen this floating around earlier in the year, but a nice reminder that humans can be pretty decent sometimes:

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I'm Emily, a 30-something British expat currently living smack dab in the middle of Canada. I'm a giant sci-fi geek, word nerd and music fiend with a fierce passion for writing, photography, great literature, psychology, adventures, astronomy, magic, fun, and seeing the world. If you're a fan of great music, science fiction, travel, studying human behaviour, nerding out, the '80s, proper grammar, and the occasional kitten, you've come to the right place.